


Price of Love

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim's version of what happened after 'Hands to Heaven'.<br/>This story is a sequel to Insensitive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Price of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank saraid, pumpkin, and Heather for keeping me from throwing this story in the recycling bin. Many thanks for the wonderful suggestions and encouragement. 

## Price of Love

by JR

Author's disclaimer: Jim, Blair, Steven, Simon, and everyone else you recognize are owned by UPN and Pet Fly Productions and used without their permission. The Price of Love by Bad English is also used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it. 

* * *

**SUNDAY**

It was the heat from the body lying next to him that woke Jim Ellison. It had been a long time since the Sentinel had shared his bed with anyone, and while the sensation was immensely pleasurable, it was unusual enough to rouse him from slumber. The deep breath he drew in when he sighed was enough to make him cognizant of the fact that he wasn't in his own bed. 

'Whaa?' he thought slowly, his mind still sluggish from slumber. Opening his eyes, he realized that he was in Blair's room, and more importantly, Blair was cradled in his arms. His tactile sense told him that neither of them had any clothes on. 

It took just seconds for it all to come back to him. It all started last night when he had seen the anguish in Blair's face in the reflection of the glass balcony doors. The sadness that Jim had seen in those expressive blue eyes had been enough to break his heart. With his Blessed Protector instinct in overdrive, he'd felt a simple, primitive need to comfort the younger man who was his charge. With a simple kiss, an incredible hunger had grown between the two of them; one that could only be sated by giving themselves wholly to each other. Never in his life had Jim given himself so totally to another person, nor had he ever been taken so completely. 

Blair rolled over onto his side in order to snuggle closer to the heat coming from Jim's body. Shifting his gaze, the Sentinel took in the vision lying in his arms. The anthropologist looked so innocent while he slept. Jim's pupils dilated automatically, allowing him to gaze at the long lashes that had so tempted him last night. As his eyes moved downward, the Sentinel was transfixed by the sight of Blair's full, pouting mouth. There was a sudden rush of blood to his groin when he recalled just how wonderful those lips had felt wrapped around his throbbing erection; and he was overpowered with a need to feel that same sensation again. 

It was at the precise moment that Jim Ellison realized exactly what he was thinking. Unbidden flashes of memories from last night returned to him, hitting him like a bucket of ice water thrown on his groin. How could he have touched Sandburg like that? How could he have found pleasure in those sexual acts? How could he have fucked another man? And even worse, he had let Sandburg do the same to him. He had let another man fuck him. 

A wave of revulsion swept over the detective as he recalled how it felt to have Sandburg touch him in the most intimate places. The feeling of his Guide's hard cock sliding into his ass was burned permanently into his memory. More importantly, though, was the ecstasy he felt simply from knowing that it was Blair who was possessing him. 

'No!' Jim's mind screamed in denial. 

The Sentinel jumped out of the bed and ran rapidly into the bathroom. The need to remove all traces of last night's encounter was overpowering. Not bothering with the cold water, he dialed down his sense of touch and proceeded to scrub himself until his skin was red and raw. The Sentinel was desperate to rid his skin from the scent of his Guide that was clinging to him like the blood on Lady MacBeth's hands. He scoured his flesh until the water ran cold. 

Wrapping a towel around his waist, the Sentinel ran up the stairs to find some clean cloths. After dressing, Jim found himself pacing through the living room, wondering what he should do next. His first urge was to take complete control of his surroundings; to wake his Guide and get him the hell out of his loft as fast as he could. Since nothing else came to mind, the Sentinel decided to run with the idea. 

The sight of the clothing that they had so carelessly removed and thrown aside last night caught his eye. It was a painful reminder of how pleasurable it had been to undress his Guide, to explore the lithe body that was finally his. 'No!' his mind cried out. Without thinking about his actions, the Sentinel threw his own clothes in the bathroom hamper. Next, Jim neatly folded Blair's garments and stealthily moved into the younger man's bedroom just to get them out of his sight. He carefully avoided looking at the figure in the bed sleeping soundly. 

The scent of sex; a heady mix of semen, sweat, arousal, and both of their personal scents assault his nose. He could even feel the tingling sensation of the residual pheromones that were still present. Once again, memories bubbled to the surface, the scents in the air bringing back the picture of Blair lounging on the bed lapping up Jim's spilled semen from the Sentinel's stomach. He shuddered as he remembered how erotic that soft velvet tongue had felt against his heated flesh. 

Shaking off the mental picture, Jim walked into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He needed to think. Sitting unmoving on the couch, the detective spent almost an hour trying uselessly to come to grips with the situation. It was impossible. His thoughts just kept running in never-ending circles. Jim was startled when he finally looked at the clock. He needed more time to think about this, but time was a luxury he didn't have. Sandburg would have to be on the road soon. 

Taking a deep breath, he called out to the younger man. "Chief. Chief, wake up." Jim was startled by the lack of emotion in his own voice. 

With his enhanced hearing, Jim was aware of the exact moment when Blair finally woke up. Nor did he miss the sharp intake of breath when the anthropologist recalled the events of the previous evening. The sound carried the detective back to last night as well, his mind haunted by the groans of the smaller man that had only inflamed his own desires. 

Once again, his mind took control, hastily dragging out all the old emotional defenses. They were somewhat rusty from lack of use; but in just a split second, he managed to rebuild and fortify them. The bitter irony of the situation did not escape him; the fact that the first time he'd needed his old defenses was to keep out the one person who had worked so hard to tear them down in the first place. 

Jim moved into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. He could hear Blair entering the room behind him even before the younger man called out the simple greeting. Instinctively, he knew that one look at his Guide would be enough to make him crumble, so he kept his control intact by not even acknowledging the word. 

Unfortunately, Jim underestimated how much Blair's presence alone would undermine his resolve. When he heard Blair hesitantly calling his name, panic swept over the older man. He wasn't ready for this, yet. Time. He needed more time. In an effort to delay the inevitable, he told his Guide to go take a shower. 

"Jim, we need to talk about this." A wave of pain flowed through the Sentinel at the raw hurt he heard in his Guide's voice. As Blair's Blessed Protector, Jim felt a powerful urge to go comfort his charge, but for the first time in over three years, Jim Ellison -- not the Sentinel, not the cop, not the Blessed Protector -- Jim Ellison the man, let his own need for self-preservation win out. 

That was what Jim's mind was desperately trying to preserve: his self-concept. The simple comfort and security that came from knowing who he was and where he was from was under attack. Now, everything he thought he knew about himself was being threatened, and in order to prevent the chaos that came with change, Jim's consciousness knew that this particular discussion with Blair Sandburg needed to be avoided at all costs. 

"No." He answered simply. 

Jim could feel Blair's eyes on him from across the room. Those smoky deep blue eyes could pierce straight through his defenses and destroy his inner resolve so easily. The detective's jaw worked furiously as he kept himself from facing the one thing that could break him. Jim didn't move again until he heard the bathroom door shut. 

Blair was about five minutes into his shower when Jim heard Steven knocking on the door. Steven must have picked up on his older sibling's tension, but said nothing about it. Instead, the younger Ellison moved into the kitchen and began removing the plates and utensils that would be needed to eat the bagels and croissants he had brought with him. 

Blair rejoined them a few minutes later. Jim barely looked at the younger man, terrified that his brother would somehow figure out that he and Blair had slept together. Lost deeply in his own thoughts, the Sentinel missed most of the meal. He mechanically ate the food his brother placed in front of him; and despite his enhanced sense of taste, everything had the flavor of saut'd cardboard. His thoughts were racing in circles, getting him nowhere fast. So deep was his concentration, the next thing he was consciously aware of, was his Guide giving Steven a hug as they said goodbye. 

The sudden pain that came with his renewed awareness cut him to the quick. This was it. Time had run out. Swallowing hard, Jim braced his defenses and for the first time that day, looked straight into Blair's face. Mentally, the detective steeled himself to see confusion and hurt on his Guide's ever expressive face, but the mix of venomous anger and pain that glared back at him tore straight through to his soul. 

Recoiling in shock, the Sentinel stood frozen for a long minute. Finally, Jim managed to pull himself together. Reaching for his coat, he moved to the door. The walk downstairs was made in total silence. The fact that Steven chose to remain upstairs in order to give them a little privacy didn't even register. The next thing he knew, they were standing next to Blair's car. 

"Jim...I...don't want to leave like..." The hesitation in Blair's voice brought a fresh wave of pain to the Sentinel. With it, his heart constricted. 

"Shhh." Jim said. He took a deep breath for extra strength and looked up into his Guide's blue eyes. An urgent need to enfold the younger man in his arms and heal the hurt he had caused with gentle kisses rose up within him. 

"I..." Jim started. He was ready to give into the need when the sounds of the footsteps of a passerby entered his consciousness. 'What the hell? What the hell am I thinking?' He was about to kiss Blair in public. It was enough to slam his emotional walls back into place. Eyes downcast, Jim spoke quietly to his Guide. "I'm sorry. I...I can't do this." Not able to totally control his impulses, he pulled the younger man into an embrace as he whispered a farewell to him. 

Just holding Blair that close was enough to overwhelm his senses. Each and every one of them were reporting information about his Guide to his brain. Not wanting to get lost in the sensation, the Sentinel released the smaller man quickly. 

'He's leaving me. He's leaving me.' Finally, reality came back with a vengeance. Jim had been so wrapped up in the fact that he and Blair had sex last night, he never bothered to consider how difficult it would be to actually say goodbye. 

An iron fist grabbed hold of his stomach, and a feeling of Nausea swept over him. Knowing that one more look at his Guide would be more than he could handle, Jim raced back upstairs into the loft. He could feel Blair's eyes burning into his back as he was retreating into the building. 

Jim barely made it into the bathroom before his breakfast came back up. Tremors rippled through his body as he tracked the engine of Blair's Volvo as it made its way down Prospect. Once the sound was past his considerable range, he finally turned on the faucet and reached for his toothbrush. 

After he cleaned himself up, he was startled when Steven appeared outside the bathroom door with a can of 7-Up. Caught up in his own world, Jim had completely forgotten that his brother had been waiting in the living room. With a slight nod of thanks, the detective took the can from the younger man and sipped it while he made his way to the couch. 

They were both silent for a few minutes before Steven found the courage to speak. "You okay, Jim?" The Sentinel could only nod. 

Surprisingly, the younger Ellison sensed his brother's need for privacy and solitude. "Jim, I'm going to go now. If you want...if you need anything, or just want to talk, I'll be home all day, okay?" Acknowledging the remark with another nod, the Sentinel barely registered the door closing 

The confusion that had been with him all morning only grew stronger as the hours passed. The Sentinel had managed to hold off on any serious thinking by going to the gym for a two hour workout, but it all came back to him as soon as he walked into the loft. He spent his afternoon doing some simple household repairs that he had never managed to get to with his hectic schedule. Afternoon turned swiftly into evening, and after eating a can of soup for dinner, the detective finally had nothing left to distract him. 

Restless, Jim began roaming through the loft, searching futilely for something, _anything_ to distract him from the maelstrom of thoughts that just would not leave him alone. Memories raced through his mind at frightening speeds. Like watching a VCR tape on play and fast forward at the same time, visions of the past twenty-four hours plagued the Sentinel. He was constantly vacillating between feelings of anger and confusion. Jim's basic need for order crawled to the surface, so he tried his best to slow his thoughts in an effort to rationalize the events of the past twenty-four hours. 

Making love to another man. It went against everything he had ever been taught. God, his father, bastard that he was, must have been turning over in his grave. 'Guess you were right, Pops,' Jim thought darkly. 'Guess you were right to worry that one of your boys would turn out soft.' In his time, the army would have drummed a special forces officer out in a heartbeat; screw that 'don't ask, don't tell' policy. Even now, as one of Cascade's finest, Jim was well aware of how gay cops were thought of by fellow police officers. 

That last thought lead to a new tangent. 'I slept with another man. Does this mean I'm gay?' Jim's thoughts grew wilder as time went on. He found himself wondering if subconsciously he knew all along. Maybe that was why his marriage to Carolyn had failed. His mind raced backward through a list of all of his male acquaintances, trying to determine if he had a sexual interest in any of them, or even found them attractive. 

Jim wasn't really cognizant of what he was doing until he realized that he was actually running _Joel Taggert_ through his little self-test. Trying to picture Joel naked in bed sent a shudder down his spine. With a shake of his head, the Sentinel lifted his now warm brown bottle of beer to his lips and took a pull. He let himself be distracted by sorting through the tastes of the individual ingredients in the alcohol. 

Even though it was still early, Jim was exhausted from a combination of lack of sleep, a hard workout, and too much deep thought in one day. The detective locked the door and turned out the lights. 

'Jesus, Joel Taggert?!?' he thought with a mental cringe as he climbed up the stairs to the bedroom. A fresh wave of self-loathing rolled over the Sentinel, and not knowing what else to do with it, Jim's mind converted it into anger at his absent Guide. 

'Damn Sandburg. This is all his fault.' Why else would he have thrown away all of his morals. Not that he was homophobic, he rationalized, he didn't care if men slept with other men; just as long as it didn't affect _him_ personally. But how did that explain his behavior last night? 

More confused than ever, Jim fell into a restless sleep repeating the same thought over and over. 

'I know who I am.' 

* * *

**MONDAY**

Jim started off his day by hitting the snooze bar on his alarm three separate times without ever really achieving a wakeful state. He had been having the most intense dream and apparently didn't want to leave it too soon, but by the time the shrill electronic tone broke into his subconscious, any memory of the dream was lost to him. The detective let go a frustrated moan when he looked at the time. He was already thirty minutes behind schedule; and to make things worse, he was sporting a powerful erection with no time to take the matter in hand, so to speak. 

Rushing out of bed, he quickly showered, dressed, and made his way down to the station. It seemed that everyone from the Chief of Police right down to the janitor wanted to know how the detective was doing and whether or not he had heard from Sandburg yet. Any other day, the Sentinel would have been touched by their concern, not only for himself, but for Blair as well, but Jim was still angry and out of sorts about the events of the past weekend. Only Simon seemed to notice the Sentinel's extreme annoyance each time somebody asked after the anthropologist; but the Captain refrained from making any comments, choosing to merely observe his best detective before sending him out on a new case. 

What a thrilling case that turned out to be. Ryf and Ellison had been specifically requested by the mayor's wife to find out who had spray painted graffiti on the door to her home. The Sentinel could barely keep from snarling that the incident was hardly enough to be considered a major crime. 

Nevertheless, the new partners made their way over to the Mayor's house. While they were examining the scene, the Sentinel was overwhelmed by the smell of the fresh paint. Jim focused in on the powerful chemical scents, unaware that he was losing touch with reality. Although, Ryf was aware of Jim's Sentinel abilities and the dangerous side affects that could happen, he was still not used to filling the role of Guide. 

'This never would have happened if Sandburg had been here.' Jim thought angrily. The zone out was simply an excuse to allow his frustration over the _other_ situation rear it's ugly head. Blair was his Guide. He was supposed to be the one person who could keep the Sentinel grounded in reality. 

That thought stopped the detective dead in his tracks. 'Why didn't he stop us before we went too far that night?' Jim wondered to himself, not bothering to consider that he had been just as capable of stopping things as his Guide had been. However, it wasn't the time or place to continue this line of thought. The detective returned his full concentration back to the idiotic case. 

It was a long, wasted afternoon as they waited for the lab reports to come back. As far as most of the Major Crimes division was concerned, the whole case was a waste of time, money, and resources. They were all well aware that the kids who did this would never be found, yet politics forced them into at least making an effort before they could report that fact back to the mayor. 

It was already dark by the time Jim returned home. The Chinese food he picked up on the way home was suddenly very unappealing, so he tucked it into the refrigerator and grabbed a beer while he was there. The headache that had developed earlier was starting to ease, but it took three beers in his empty stomach before the detective could unwind enough to continue with the mental self examination he had begun the night before. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was his first day back on the job without his partner; whatever the cause, the anger the Sentinel had felt towards his Guide yesterday was suspiciously absent. He spared a moment to laugh at how paranoid he had been last night as he reviewed his previous conclusions, and promised himself that he wouldn't get so carried away again. 

There was a deep sigh as Jim finally admitted to himself that it wasn't other _men_ he was attracted to, there was just one. When did it happen? What changed that made him want another man, and Blair of all people? Despite his best intentions, the Sentinel felt annoyance well up within himself; an irrational anger directed at his friend for making him feel this way. 

As quickly as the emotion rose, it settled back down as the detective realized it certainly wasn't Blair's fault that Jim was attracted to him. Blair's appearance may not have been 'acceptable' in the closed society of the police force; but out in the real world, there was no mistaking the amount of raw sexual appeal the younger man projected. It wasn't as though the anthropologist worked at it; it was simply something that came naturally from within. There was a certain kind of pure sensuality that exuded from Blair, and that, coupled with his charming, easy-going personality, often made him the object of affection for many men and women. Apparently that included his own Sentinel. 

'Okay, so I think Sandburg's good looking. Why in the hell did I have to do _that_ with him?' For some unknown reason, the detective found himself chagrined by the fact that he still couldn't even _think_ the words to himself. Why had he been able to actually perform the physical acts with his Guide, when just two days ago he wouldn't have even been able to mentally connect the thoughts of 'making love' and 'Blair Sandburg?' 

'How did it ever come to this?' he despaired as he remembered the sequence of events that brought him to this point. Deep inside, Jim had always known that Blair's departure would be, without a doubt, one of the most devastating things that would ever happen to him. He had reserved a space up there at the top of the list, right along side of things like his mother walking out on him, his helicopter crash in the jungle, his divorce from Carolyn, and the emergence of his Sentinel abilities. All of those events left their mark on him, but instinctively, Jim knew that losing Blair was going to be, by far, his most traumatic experience to date. 

Yet, despite this knowledge, the Sentinel knew that Blair needed to move on after completing his dissertation. Jim practically pushed his friend out the door rather than letting the anthropologist's career suffer. He did try to isolate himself from the pain the he knew would be forthcoming, but it wasn't enough. The Sentinel had underestimated his own feelings for his Guide. 

"Jesus!" Jim yelped as the sound of shattering glass hit his ears like an explosion. Jim had been so far gone into his thoughts he had allowed the beer bottle to slip from his grasp. Taking a deep breath to steady his racing heartbeat, the Sentinel moved to the closet to grab paper towels, a broom, and the dustbin to clean up the mess. 

As he worked, a picture of Blair glaring at him in hatred stuck in his thoughts. For the first time in two days, Jim felt shame as he recalled how harshly he had treated his best friend. He realized that he had twisted his own hurt and confusion over everything that happened and turned it into anger, which he then aimed at Blair. 'At least he never stays angry long. I'll apologize when he calls to check in.' Jim thought. 

He locked up and went to bed. Sleep was slow in coming and the Sentinel couldn't figure out why until he realized that it was too quiet. The strong, steady heartbeat that always lulled him to sleep was missing. Jim silently wished that Blair was downstairs asleep in his room right now, so that he could apologize and try to make everything right between them again. 

The last thing that went through his mind was a quick feeling of fear. What if his actions had pushed Blair away for good? 

* * *

The hand that grasped his aching erection tightened ever so slightly. The increase in pressure caused the Sentinel's back to arch up off the mattress. The firm grip on his throbbing cock forced the air rapidly from his lungs, yet his vocal chords managed to transform the sound into a single name. "Blair," Jim hissed in pleasure. 

"I'm here, Jim. I'm right here." Blair spoke softly, his voice deep with passion. Another hand, more gentle than it's counterpart began gently stroking his sweaty brow. Jim's flesh tingled everywhere his Guide touched him as their pheromones met and mingled together. Aware of the sensation, Jim's heart sped up, the increase in blood flow swelling his already painful erection to even greater proportions. 

"That's it, baby. Feels good, doesn't it?" Blair coaxed tenderly. The Sentinel kept his eyes closed, so as not to be distracted from the sensual flow of words coming from his Guide's lips. Lips. At the mere thought of the word, the younger man's hand left his brow and traveled down his face. "Your mouth is so beautiful, Jim," Blair spoke while his nimble fingers gently outlined and caressed his parted lips. "I want to kiss you right now, tease your tongue with my own. Can you feel them moving against each other? It's almost like a battle, your tongue rolling around mine while we open our mouths even wider to try and reach deeper inside." Jim groaned as his mind placed him in the scenario that Blair's hypnotic words were creating. "I want to do that to you, Jim, but then I couldn't keep telling you about all the other things I want to do." 

"Tell me, Blair," Jim begged as he gasped for breath. "Oh God, please tell me." 

There was a shift in the mattress at the same time his Guide slid a finger into his mouth. Moaning loudly, Jim rolled his tongue around the digit just the way Blair had talked of not a minute before. The action caused another groan to echo throughout the loft before the litany of words continued. 

"You look so beautiful like this. You're like a Greek god, Jim. Sculpted muscles, a sheen of sweat making you shine in the moonlight, your red, hard cock laying on your stomach. God, it feels so strong under my fingers. Each stroke, Jim. I feel everything, each ridge, each vein and the blood flowing through it. So good, so good." As the younger man spoke, Jim couldn't prevent the involuntary twitches that jumped through the swollen organ as the beginning of his orgasm began building. The groan that started a low rush of air turned into a scream of outrage as Blair's hand was removed from his erection. 

"Nooo!" Jim wailed in frustration. He opened his eyes and allowed his eyes to move wildly around the room. He found what he sought at the foot of the bed. "Wha.." he asked the man standing there while he panted from the pain caused by his ignored erection. 

Wanting a closer look at his Guide, the Sentinel raises the dial on his sight until the blackness of his pupils almost completely drowned out any hint of the pale blue irises. Jim gasped in shock as he saw the same angry look on his Guide's face that he had worn the morning he had left for Virginia. Blair's eyes narrowed as their normal rich blue turned cold. They cut straight through to the Sentinel's soul. "How does it feel, Jim?" he asked in a snarl, before fading completely out of sight. 

* * *

Jim woke covered in sweat and gasping for breath. He could feel the erection that was a by-product of his dream begin to go down as he tried to sort through the images presented to him by his subconscious. He shifted around, trying futilely to find a position that gave some relief from his still-swollen penis. 

With a groan, the Sentinel finally admitted to himself that he was not blameless for Saturday night. He had _wanted_ to make love to his Guide, just as badly as Blair had wanted him. The younger man had been as scared and confused as he had been the following morning. He could remember the uncertainty in his Guide's voice as though he were back in the scene in the living room Sunday morning. The Sentinel could hear the hesitation as Blair tried to get him to discuss the situation. And what had he done? In typical Jim Ellison behavior, the detective had thrown up a wall so he could avoid dealing with the consequences of his actions. To make matters worse, he had shifted all the blame unjustly onto the younger man. 

"Oh God," Jim moaned out loud. "I'm such an asshole, how could I have done that to him." 

He sat alone in the dark mentally kicking himself for a half an hour before he fell asleep. The last conscious thought was of his Guide. Blair had been gone for two days and hadn't called. Jim prayed that the younger man would call soon so he could beg for forgiveness. 

* * *

**TUESDAY NIGHT**

After another day wasted looking for the graffiti artists, Jim raced home to the loft with the hopes of a phone call from Blair. After a quick dinner, the Sentinel sat down on the couch to watch some television while he tried to figure out exactly what to say when the call came. Nothing he thought of seemed sincere enough. 

The show that he was planning on watching was pre-empted by a baseball game being played by two teams that he really didn't care about, so the detective indulged himself in three hours of channel surfing. After twenty minutes of watching the Preview channel roll around, Jim turned off the television and threw the remote down on the table in disgust. 

Looking for another distraction, Jim turned on the stereo. An illuminated light informed him that there was a tape in the player. He removed a rather ratty looking old cassette. The label was yellowed and the adhesive on the back had congealed to soak through the paper, making it difficult to read. 'Background Music Spring '89' was written on the label in a more childish version of Blair's handwriting. With the chuckle, Jim realized that this was probably one of the tools a nineteen year old Sandburg used for seducing co-eds. 

Just having the tape in his possession made Jim feel as though he had found some piece of Blair himself that the younger man accidentally left behind. It was silly, but he was grateful for his discovery of this new connection to his absent friend. When Jim pushed the play button, the sound of late eighties glamour rock ballad assaulted his ears, causing the Sentinel to fumble for the volume control. Sitting down absent-mindedly on the floor in front of the stereo, the detective found himself rewinding to the beginning of the tape, praying that the track wouldn't be as painful to his hyperactive sense of hearing as the last one. 

The anthropologist's taste in music had definitely gone through some changes in the past eight years. Then again, so had his own. With a push of the play button, Jim used his enhanced hearing in an attempt to filter out the pops and hisses caused by poor recording and age. 

A softer song played this time. One line of the lyrics caught Jim's attention, so he rewound the tape and started over from the beginning. This time he listened carefully to the words that accompanied the pleading melody. For the next hour, the Sentinel played the song over and over. By the time midnight floated around, he had memorized the lyrics. Turning the stereo off, Jim headed off to bed with the song still floating in his head. 

The phone call he had been praying for never came. Trying to relax enough to fall asleep, Jim began the simple breathing exersizes that Blair taught him so long ago. The effect was minimal, though, since his mind refused to slow down. The Sentinel kept thinking about all the dangers that could befall a person on a long trip, especially Blair Sandburg. Knowing that his friend had a habit of finding trouble in the best of circumstances, Jim's Blessed Protector instincts welled up in full force. Something must have happened to him to prevent him from calling. 

'Sure something happened to him, his best friend fucked him and left a twenty on the dresser.' Jim said, disgusted by his own behavior. 

The thought left the detective feeling more lost than ever as he succumbed to sleep. 

* * *

'You shouldn't let yourself get so tense, Jim.' 

The Sentinel moaned in ecstasy as the strong oil-covered hands worked the muscles in his lower back. His enhanced sense of touch noted the heat of the flesh kneading his own, warmed by the friction of skin rubbing against skin. "Blair." he sighed. 

"Like that? How 'bout this?" Blair asked coyly, sliding his nimble hands downwards to encompass the firm globes of Jim's ass. Increasing the pressure of his ministrations as he spoke, the Sentinel couldn't keep himself from moving against the bed to increase the pressure on his rapidly swelling cock. "Ooh, you like that, don't you Jim? I'm getting to you, aren't I? Your skin is so soft, but I can feel the muscle underneath. It feels so good under my hands. Look at me, Jim. Look at me." 

Unable to resist the commanding tone in the voice he trusted so implicitly, he opened his eyes and craned his neck around to the side. The vision he saw made him gasp. Blair was kneeling next to his waist, and with only the soft light on in the room directly behind him, the backlighting caused an ephemeral glow around him. The gentle light not only pulled out the reddish highlights in his long curly hair, but also changed the appearance and texture to that of strands of raw silk. Shadows played across Blair's upper body, accentuating the muscles of his lithe form. Jim's eyes moved lower to take in the sight of his Guide's groin. The sight of the weeping erection aimed straight at his own head was enough to wring another resounding groan from the older man. 

Jim could practically hear the silent order to return his gaze back to Blair's face. Once there, his pale blue eyes locked with the deep blues of his Guide that were darkening from passion. Entranced by the subtle changes in color, Jim felt as though he was going under hypnosis, and strangely enough, that was exactly where he wanted to be, under Blair's command for the rest of this encounter. 

Without breaking the intense gaze, Blair's hands encouraged his lover to roll over onto his back. Jim complied quickly, eager to find out exactly what his Guide would do to him next. There was a secretive yet seductive look on that expressive face, one that he had never seen before but nonetheless found intriguing. 

As a gentle hand brushed against his balls, the Sentinel moaned softly. At the passionate sound, an oiled finger carefully traced the seam of the sac from the base of Jim's cock to the sensitive flesh of his perineum. The teasing touch caused a violent shiver to rock his body, which in turn brought a smug smile to his lover's face. 

"Oh, I think you liked that. Want me to do it again?" Blair asked. For his part, Jim felt as though he were paralyzed. It took all of his concentration to manage a single sharp bob of his head, but it was unnecessary. His Guide could see nothing but pure need in the soft blue eyes. Taking pity on his immobile lover, Blair repeated the action twice more before moving his slick finger lower into the valley that hid his goal. 

"God, Blair. Please. Please." Jim begged as Blair skimmed over the tender opening to his body. 

Retracing the same path, Blair teased Jim with both his touch and his words. "I know what you want, Jim. I know what you need. You beg so nicely, it's hard to not give you what you want. But not just yet." 

While the Sentinel's mind screamed in protest, his erection bobbed in anticipation of what he knew was coming. The teasing action to his ass was suddenly joined by another hand stroking his erection. Instead of the gentle touch Jim had grown to expect, Blair was using his whole fist to encompass the swollen flesh. With his sense of touch overstimulated, the rough pulls to his hard cock were just shy of painful, but Blair seemed aware of just how much his lover could handle and was careful not to cross the line. The Sentinel frantically attempted to adjust his mental pain dial, but lost his concentration when his Guide's oiled finger slid gently into the tight muscles of his anus. 

The contrasting sensations of pleasure and pain hurtled Jim quickly towards completion. He felt his erection swell and his testicles contract as his body prepared itself for the explosion that was about to occur. The Sentinel's mind began to blank as the wave of bliss that was fast approaching grew in strength and speed. His last fuzzy thought was 'Just a little more.' 

Then the sensations stopped. Again. 

"Damn you...Blair...don't stop." Jim raged in between gasps for air. 

The sensual expression on his Guide's face melted into hurt and confusion. "Didn't it feel good, Jim?" Blair asked uncertainly. 

"Until you stopped." Jim growled. 

The last thing the Sentinel noticed about his Guide as he faded away were those pouting lips curving into a cryptic smile. 

* * *

**WEDNESDAY**

Jim didn't even bother to try to kid himself into believing that he would be able to relax anymore. Three days and he'd still heard nothing from Blair. He was half tempted to put out a warrant on the younger man, in hopes that somewhere along the way, some cop would arrest him. The graffiti case was officially marked unsolved, freeing the detective to spend the rest of the day preparing for a trial that he would be testifying at on Thursday. Doing the paperwork involved only increased Jim's awareness of Blair's absence, something that resulted in a series of zone outs. 

There had been eleven of them. That was a new record. 'If Blair knew, he be having apoplectic fits right now,' Jim thought with a mental smirk. 'I wonder if he'd even care anymore.' The detective knew his last thought was the cause of the problem, and that the zone outs and sensory losses he was experiencing were only the symptoms. Aside from the paint, each and every incident occurred while the Sentinel was subconsciously searching for his missing Guide. 

Even in the weeks before the anthropologist's move, the stress the detective had been under wreaked havoc on Jim's heightened senses. He had been careful to hide his condition, afraid that his Guide might decide to forego his job out of obligation to his Sentinel. Jim supposed that the anger he had been feeling at Blair earlier in the week kept his senses from seeking out the younger man; but now that he was worried about his Guide, he couldn't stop subconsciously seeking him out. 

Concerned for his best detective, Simon called Jim into his office. After twenty minutes of obfuscations Blair would have been proud of, the Sentinel finally admitted what was causing the problem. Unsure of the best thing to do, Simon sent Jim home for the day with the hopes that the zone outs would stop once he was out of the station. 

Restlessness overcame the detective as he drove home. What Jim really wanted to do was to just drive around and burn off some of his excess energy, but he was worried that Blair might call the loft instead of his cell phone. That was, if he bothered to call at all. 

Once he reached the loft, the Sentinel grabbed a beer and sat wearily down on the couch. For the first time in ages, Jim watched a sunset, marveling in the various hues as the sun backlit the clouds. When it was over, only one thought occupied the Sentinel's mind. 'God, Blair would have loved that.' 

Without realizing what he was doing, Jim got up from the couch and opened the French doors that led to Blair's room. 'Former room.' Jim corrected mentally. After being closed up for three days, he could still smell his Guide's unique scent. That wasn't surprising, considering that the younger man had occupied this space for over three years. 

Focusing a little more, the Sentinel found almost imperceptible traces of the lovemaking in the air as well. As he moved about the small room, he found the scents more defined as he got closer to the bed. Again, it didn't surprise him, but it did entice him. 

Moving slowly, he ran a hand over the comforter. Blair made a token gesture of flipping it back up over the pillows before he had left, leaving the quilt crooked and lumpy. It didn't matter anyway, since Jim grabbed the thick material in his hand and pulled it back to expose the sheets. 

A symphony of scents assaulted his nose at the same time, the most powerful one by far being Blair's own. Narrowing his focus to dangerous levels, Jim managed to pull out other softer smells; himself, detergent, shampoo \-- both his own and Blair's, sweat and semen -- again from both men. Wanting to get closer to the source, the Sentinel pulled both the top sheet and the flat sheet free from the mattress. Rolling them up in a ball, he leaned forward to press his face into the plentiful material. Jim felt reality slipping away, but he really didn't care. He just wanted to find more traces of his Guide. 

* * *

... no sense of time where he was, just a feeling of comfort. The scent of his Guide was nearby now. His Guide would protect him. Bring him back before long. He supposed that he was disappointed that the jungle hadn't come to him this time. Here, wherever this was, there was just darkness. Most importantly, there was no pain. He was free here, and his Guide was nearby. After all, his scent was close. Wait. There was a noise. Never mind it. Freedom is here. The Guide is here. The Guide is...where. Confusion. The Guide scent was coming from two different places. Focus harder. No, that is part of the Guide's scent, but it's stronger. Noise again. Louder... 

* * *

"Jim! Jim! Come on. Damn it! Come back now." 

The Sentinel found reality painfully coming back into focus around him. The scent of Blair's shampoo mingled with the fainter scents of Simon and Ryf. Jim tried to raise himself out of the awkward leaning position he had been in, much to the displeasure of his aching back. The detective couldn't hold in the painful gasp that the movement caused. His head began throbbing fiercely, as if it didn't want his back to be the only thing hurting him. 

"What..." Jim was amazed at the hoarseness of his voice. "What happened?" 

Only when the detective finally spoke did Simon let go of his fear. Shaking his head, the Captain explained the details of what had just occurred. "I tried calling you to go over some details on the Hawkins case, but you didn't answer. I got worried when you didn't pick up the cell phone either, especially after all those zone outs you had today. I couldn't find you at first, you were sitting here in the dark, and your face was..." Simon trailed off. 

For his part, Jim was mortified. How in the hell was he going to explain this? Stuffing his face into cum stained sheets? At least they were balled up enough so the white splotches weren't visible. Nevertheless, he could already feel the heat that accompanied the redness on his face. 'The best lies always are partial truths.' The old adage came back to him, as he offered a hesitant explanation. "I was just worried about him. I just was...well...looking for some trace of him, ya'know? The last thing I remember is standing in the doorway. I guess I must have come over here while I was zoned out." Jim stated. 'Careful, Ellison. Don't protest too much.' Ryf seemed to accept what he was saying, but Simon had a thoughtful look on his face. 

"What's with the shampoo?" Jim finally asked. 

Simon and Ryf exchanged a glance that the detective couldn't interpret. Finally, the Captain spoke. "When I couldn't bring you out of it, I called Ryf. Damn, Jim. You were gone for at least a half an hour, and I had no idea how long you had been sitting here before I came over. Sandburg always said the longer you're under, the harder it was to bring you back." Jim reluctantly nodded at the comment. 

Ryf took up the tale at that point. "Well, nothing I did seemed to bring you out of it, and since you seemed to be zoning on Sandburg...well...it just seemed like you might respond to something a little stronger than the sheet." The younger detective's embarrassment was easily seen by the Sentinel. 

In an attempt to put his new partner at ease, Jim spoke quietly. "Thank you. It was smart thinking, too." 'Just like Sandburg.' he added to himself. 

The Sentinel attempted to pick himself up off the floor, but his muscles had other ideas. While his Captain and partner gave him a hand up, Jim glanced over at his watch. 'Jesus Christ!' he exclaimed mentally. He had been sitting there for over three hours. 

Ryf made his excuses and said goodnight, leaving Jim alone with his Captain. All the Sentinel wanted to do was take something for his headache and find his bed. He had a feeling that in order to get his wish, he was going to have to go through a long heart to heart with his friend. He went to the kitchen and warmed two mugs of water in the microwave. 

"Jim, are you alright?" Simon began. 

With a tired sigh, Jim answered. "Yes Sir. I'm okay." 

Simon started a little at the formality of the detective's response. "Don't 'Sir' me outside of the office. I'm here as your friend, not as your Captain. Now I'll ask you again, are you alright?" 

Jim brought the mugs of tea into the living room. He handed one to Simon as he spoke. "Yeah, Simon. I'm fine. It's just...I just miss him sometimes." 

Wrapping his large fingers around the cup, the Captain took a swallow. "This is good. What is it?" 

"Chamomile. It's good for when you can't sleep." Jim replied automatically. 

Simon stifled a grin. "Guess you picked that up from Sandburg, huh? Look, Jim. I know this must be hard for you. I mean at first, you didn't really want the kid around, but then, it was almost like you were joined at the hip." 

'Off by a few inches in either direction, there, Simon.' Jim thought ironically as he finished the last of his tea. "Simon, I'm not really in the mood to talk about this." 

It had been a long time since the Captain had seen his detective this closed off. It really didn't surprise him that Blair's departure had brought all those old emotional defenses back, but Simon was still disappointed. It was like the kid had taken the more relaxed version of Jim Ellison with him and left the older, more unapproachable model in it's place. 

The detective was rubbing his temples in a useless effort to ward off the pain. Simon worried that the Sentinel might zone out again during the night, so he offered to stay. Although he really wanted to be alone, Jim was more rattled by the last one than he cared to admit. Grabbing some sheets from the hall closet, he made up the couch. Simon actually preferred it since Sandburg's old bed was too short for his long form. 

"So what exactly am I supposed to do?" Simon asked as he grabbed the quilt from the back of the sofa. 

Jim explained it to him as he put the chain on the door. In the course of his study on Sentinels, Blair discovered that the best method of approach in this situation was to wake Jim every hour to ensure that he was still 'with it.' The older man set the alarm on his watch as the Sentinel headed up the stairs to his bed. 

* * *

There were no dreams that night. The constant interruptions prevented the Sentinel from reaching a deep enough sleep for them to occur. Even when he did doze, he was hounded both by the sound of the unfamiliar heartbeat downstairs and the nagging throbbing in his head. Jim couldn't focus his concentration long enough to turn down his mental pain dial. He just wished that Blair was there to help him. 

The idea came to him about three o'clock in the morning. After Simon came up to check on him, the Sentinel waited patiently for the older man's breathing to even out. Once assured that his Captain was asleep, Jim crept down the stairs and made his way to the washing machine. From the basket beside it, he pulled out the sheets that had graced Blair's old bed just a few hours earlier, and made his way back up to his own bed. As quietly as he could manage, he folded the material into compact, neat squares and placed them under his extra pillow. 

The scents in the sheets permeated his olfactory sense. This time, he was careful not to let himself be drawn in too far. The smell surrounded him, and gave him comfort as he finally found rest. 

* * *

**THURSDAY**

Jim rose at 5:00 AM to send Simon home. With nothing else to do at the loft, he made his way down to the station to do some paperwork before he had to be at the courthouse. As the detective reviewed the files from an older case, he came across a report that Sandburg had signed off on. 

'Blair Sandburg.' The signature was written in the younger man's strong, scrawling hand. Jim found himself running a sensitive finger over the indentations in the paper. He focused in on the tiny grooves left by the ball point pen until reality began to fade away. 

The next thing he was aware of was Ryf shaking his shoulders while speaking firmly in his ear. 'Damn it, not again.' Jim thought to himself. He thanked his new partner, but had the good grace to blush when the younger detective looked down at the report and shook his head sadly. 

"You need a new hobby, Ellison." Ryf said under his breath as he made his way to the coffee machine. 

The rest of the day limped along slowly. He spent three boredom filled hours in a courtroom waiting to be called to give twenty minutes worth of testimony. At least he found some consolation in knowing that Hawkins was going to be convicted. The D.A.'s case was airtight. 

Ten police officers watched Thomas Hawkins hold a gun to Blair's head while trying to flee from a bank robbery. Jim could still remember the absolute fear that turned his blood cold when he saw the muzzle against his Guide's temple, as well as the pride he felt when the anthropologist had thrown his elbow back into Hawkins' solar plexus. Once freed from the gunman, Blair had knocked him out cold with a jab to the face. 

Irritable and tired from several days of poor sleep, the detective called it a day. As he made his way home, an impulse came over him as he passed the Cascade Mall. Parking his truck, Jim headed inside to the music store. It took a few minutes for the clerk, a teenaged girl with purple hair and a nose ring, to look up the song and find the CD for him. Purchase in hand, the Sentinel resumed the trip home. 

As soon as he walked inside, Jim made a bee-line for the stereo. He let the CD play through once as he ate dinner, but set it to repeat that one special song while he drew a bath for himself. Although the Sentinel usually preferred showers, he was hoping that a long soak would help him relax enough to go to sleep early. With the cordless phone close by, Jim let the now familiar lyrics wash over him, and as exhausted as he was, the Sentinel closed his eyes and fell asleep. 

* * *

"Umm. Jim, you taste so good." Blair whispered to him in between long inflaming licks to his cock. A moan escaped the Sentinel's lips as Blair sucked the head of his erection into his mouth while running his clever tongue over the slit at the top. "Umm," his lover groaned as he lapped up the few salty drops of pre-cum that had escaped. There was a sucking sound when Blair removed his mouth so he could speak. "Talk to me, Jim. Tell me what you're feeling. Tell me what you like. Tell me what feels good." With each word, his Guide's warm breath caressed his wet skin sending shivers through the Sentinel. 

As soon as he finished speaking, Blair moved his mouth back to encompass several inches of Jim's hard cock. "Oh Jesus!" the Sentinel exclaimed as the hot tongue worried his most sensitive flesh. "God, yes that's it. Yeah, right there. Aah, that's so good...more...right there..." It was getting more and more difficult to form coherent thoughts as his Guide continued his oral ministrations. Like so many men, Jim lost the capacity to make complete sentences the more aroused he became. 

When Blair finally took the full length of his cock deep into the recesses of his mouth and began to gently swallow, the Sentinel could do no more than let out a wail of approval. "G-God...so...aah..." Jim panted as Blair's strong throat muscles massaged his hardness. Without realizing his action, his hands traveled to the long soft curls of his Guide's hair and began stroking the silky tresses. 

With his sense of touch overstimulated beyond imagination, Jim found himself being dragged ruthlessly to the brink of orgasm. "G...gon..gonna cum..." he gasped. 

Blair gave him no warning before removing his mouth from his engorged cock. "Nooo. Blair...please...s-so...close," Jim begged as he used the hands that were tangled in his Guide's soft hair to pull that talented mouth back to his weeping erection. 

His grip lessened somewhat when he felt a warm hand brush against his straining member. Jim's pelvis involuntarily shot upwards off the mattress as he vainly sought more contact with the tender flesh. A sigh escaped his lips as two moist fingers and a thumb encircled his cock just below the ridge of the head and began stroking ever so slowly. Blair's free hand reached up to remove Jim's hands from the long curls he had been clinging to. Using his forearm, his lover pinned his arms to his chest. 

The delicate touch of the soft fingers was almost torture. It was enough to keep him balanced on the knife's edge of orgasm, but not enough to send him over. The Sentinel began thrusting rapidly, encouraging his Guide to set a faster rhythm so he could find the relief he was so valiantly seeking. But Blair would have none of it, and kept up his slow, steady pace. 

The soft rich, sensuous tones of his lover's voice drove Jim further into madness as he encouraged the Sentinel towards completion. "Do you want it faster, Jim? Do you want it harder?" Blair asked while he increased the tempo and tightened his grip. "Talk to me, Jim. You have to tell me what you want." 

But the Sentinel was already beyond words. His entire world had narrowed down to the expanse of flesh his Guide was stroking, each pull fanning the flames of desire, bringing him that much closer to the ecstasy he so desperately needed to reach. Blair's fingers tightened so imperceptibly that only his enhanced sense of touch noticed the difference; but it was enough to throw him right to the point of no return. 

And then it stopped. Completely. 

Too close to the edge, Jim howled in rage. He couldn't stop himself from continuing to undulate his hips into the air. Instinct told him to free his hands, but somehow Blair managed to maintain his hold on them. When the insanity began to ebb with lack of stimulation; it left a panting Jim aching from the absolute need to spill his seed. There were tears of frustration in his pale blue eyes which were dilated from a combination of pain and arousal. 

"Why?" Jim asked feebly of the younger man leaning over him. 

A look of indifference was all he received. Blair shrugged his shoulders casually as he spoke. "I told you, you had to talk to me." 

With that said, his Guide disappeared. 

* * *

The water had long grown cold while Blair was torturing him in his dreams. Searing pains from his groin made it perfectly clear that although the entire episode had taken place within his own subconscious, the effects were based in reality. Moving carefully as so not to aggravate the hurt he was already feeling, Jim inched his way forward to release the stopper on the drain. 

The agony of moving into a standing position quite literally took his breath away. Gasping for air and shivering from the cold and the pain, the Sentinel turned on the shower. 'Please God, let there be enough hot water.' He prayed silently. 

Apparently, either some deity had taken pity on him or he had been asleep much longer than he thought because after the first cool drops of water, the rest scalded his skin. Adjusting the faucets to a more comfortable level, Jim started to reach for his bar of soap, but before he could complete his task something else caught his eye. 

The bottle of Blair's shampoo that Ryf had used last night was sitting in the shower caddy, right where Jim had returned it to. With a trembling hand, the Sentinel removed the bottle and flipped open the lid. The smell instantly registered in his senses, triggering one simple primitive thought -- Guide scent. 

Pouring a little of the shampoo into the palm of his free hand, Jim replaced the bottle in the caddy. Rubbing his palms together, he created a lather out of the clear gel. As the thick liquid began to bubble, more of the scent was released into the air. The effect it was having on his olfactory sense made the Sentinel groan in pure desire. 

He took one last look down at the erection that pointed angrily away from his body, before closing his eyes. The prolonged swelling had left his cock almost purple in color. As a lather-covered hand made contact with the heated skin, a passionate moan echoed through the shower. 

With a part of his Guide's scent overpowering his sense of smell, Jim found it easy to loose himself in a fantasy. No longer were his fingers massaging his engorged flesh, instead in their place was Blair's tight ass. They were in the shower together, warm water raining down on top of both of them. His lover's back was to his chest, the almost full body contact that occurred with each powerful thrust sent electrical currents of pleasure straight to the Sentinel's groin. 

Blair's continuous moans of ecstasy were amplified by the acoustics of the shower; their volume rising and falling in cadence with each stroke of Jim's hard cock into the tender flesh of his ass. When a particularly strong thrust caused the Sentinel's hardness to brush against his Guide's prostate, Blair arched his back and screamed out his lover's name. Wanting to recapture the feeling, his lover rested the back of his head on Jim's right pectoral muscle while he lifted his arms up to Jim's neck for balance. Locking each hand to the opposite wrist, he used the extra leverage to take more of his Sentinel's throbbing erection into his own body. 

The new position allowed Jim to sink the full length of his cock into his lover. Blair's wet hair now brushed against his right nipple, causing the already hard bud to tighten even further. The delicious sensation pulled the Sentinel dangerously close to completion. But he wasn't going to reach it alone. 

Jim moved the arms that up until now had been securely wrapped around Blair's chest. With one hand he grabbed his Guide's pulsating erection and pumped in a rhythm to match his thrusts into Blair's tight passage. The other hand moved down and began to delicately pull on the silver ring threaded through the pebble hard nipple. The multiple stimulations proved to be too much for his lover and with a hoarse scream he surrendered to the onslaught of passion. 

As his Guide's internal muscles contracted with his orgasm, Jim felt his own release beginning. With a scream of his own, he felt his seed spill from his body in five long spurts. Although his vision began to fade in and out, the Sentinel could hear the impact of his semen hitting the wall of the shower like rolls of thunder in the distance. As the sensation began to fade, so did Jim's strength. Like a rag doll he collapsed on the ceramic floor and fell into a complete stupor. 

By the time he was fully aware of his surroundings, the water had run cold. Again. Jim was still feeling shaky in the aftermath of his orgasm as he got out, dried off, and padded naked up to bed. This time, sleep came quickly. 

* * *

**FRIDAY**

It was another busy day being one of Cascade's Finest. As soon as he walked through the door of Major Crimes that morning, Simon's bellow of "Ellison, Ryf. My office." pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day. The Captain was bringing them in on a new case, one a little more serious than the last. The 357's, one of the biggest gangs in the Pacific Northwest were expecting a large shipment of crystal meth from their counterparts in Seattle. Jim and Ryf were to represent Major Crimes on a task force comprised of officers from several departments. After a strategy session that lasted most of the morning, the partners had been assigned to the surveillance team. 

With the meeting concluded, most of the cops milled around the briefing room, either just to finish their coffee or to talk amongst themselves. Jim was surprised at the number of people from various departments that asked after Blair, some of the same cops that he'd overheard making derogatory comments about the younger man over the years. Shaking his head in amusement, Jim wondered at his Guide's innate ability to win people over. 

It was much later in the afternoon when Steven called to ask him to dinner. Although they hadn't seen each other since the past Sunday, the younger Ellison made it a point to call every day. Jim was grateful, not only for the calls themselves, but also for Steven's diplomacy. Aside from a few general 'how are you holding up' inquiries, the younger man never questioned Jim about what had occurred Sunday morning. 

Tired and irritable, the Sentinel really didn't want to go, but he found himself agreeing to be at the posh Riverboat restaurant at 8:00. He only hoped that his brother would continue to respect his unspoken request that he was not yet ready to discuss Blair. Somehow, Jim knew that he was going to be disappointed. 

* * *

"So, have you heard from him, yet?" Steven finally broke down and asked five minutes into dinner. 

There was a deep sigh of resignation before Jim responded. "Ya'know, I'm beginning to think that they changed the words 'hello, how are you' into 'have you heard from Sandburg' and never bothered to tell me." 

The comment got a laugh out of Steven, but the younger man could see past the casual humor right to the annoyance it masked. "He hasn't called at all, has he?" Steven asked quietly. 

Picking up his bottle of beer, Jim took a sip before he began to nervously pick at the edges of the label. "No, he hasn't." 

Steven silently studied his dinner companion for a moment. His older brother had been through a lot of changes in the past fifteen or so years. Jim had lived through some terrifying experiences, things that could have easily broken other men, but Jim managed not only to survive, but to become stronger from them. Even so, underneath it all, his older brother still exhibited some of the same traits that Steven remembered from their youth. 

Friendship was not something Jim Ellison granted easily, and the number of people the detective considered friends was incredibly small. Even though they shared the same blood, Steven himself had needed to _earn_ that boon from his older brother. As for love, the people who received that gift were on a even shorter list; a list that started with the name Blair Sandburg. There was no doubt in Steven's mind that anything had changed in that regard, yet there was obviously something wrong, something that had affected the friendship the two men shared, but not the love that it was based upon. 

The trouble was getting Jim to talk about the problem. If Blair had been here, the scrappy anthropologist would have just kept hounding the detective until he finally broke down and admitted what was bothering him. It was simply a normal dynamic of their friendship. 

However, in this case, Blair _was_ the problem. Steven's own relationship with Jim was still too new, too tentative, to risk antagonizing his brother with questions that he obviously wasn't ready to answer. Although he really didn't want to, Steven let the subject drop. 

They were talking about the new airplane Steven's company had purchased when dinner arrived twenty minutes later. Jim only managed to get one bite in before his cell phone began to ring. Muttering an apology for the interruption, the detective unfolded the device and turned it on. 

"Ellison." Jim said as he rushed to swallow his food. 

"I'm here." 

After six days of growing concern, the Sentinel couldn't help the feeling of relief that swept over him. It must have been evident in his expression, since a smile appeared on Steven face as well. 

"How did the trip go, Chief?" Jim inquired. 

"Fine." Blair said coldly. 

Jim recoiled from the iciness in the tone. "Chief..." he began. 

"Look, man, it's been a long trip and I'm really wiped. You got a pen?" 

This was not going how Jim wanted it to. In all of his daydreams Blair would call and either try to apologize for what took place on Saturday night, or in that hurt tone of voice of his, would ask why the Sentinel had been so cruel to him Sunday morning. Whatever the case, Jim would use it as a springboard to start a sincere apology, one that would get their friendship back on track. 

The anger and indifference in Blair's voice threw Jim off guard. He could practically hear the venom that dripped from each word the anthropologist spoke. Oh, Jim knew that Blair had a temper, but it took a lot of pressure before it finally made an appearance; and what's more, Jim could never remember the younger man staying angry this long before. 

"Jim. You there? Come on, man, I'd like to get a little sleep before the century winds down." 

The sarcastic attitude was enough to drive all thoughts of apologizing out of the Sentinel's thoughts. In a split second all of Jim's emotional barriers snapped into place. Reaching into his jacket pocket he withdrew a pen and an old slip of paper. "Yeah, Sandburg. Go ahead." Dutifully, the detective wrote down the phone number he was given. 

"Later." Blair said informally. He hung up the phone before Jim had a chance to say anything else. 

Folding up his cell phone, the detective looked dejectedly at his waiting meal. The food no longer was appetizing. Lost in thought, he completely forgot that Steven was sitting right across from him until the younger man asked what had been said during the short conversation. Keeping the answer as brief as possible, Jim relayed the information. 

They sat together quietly for the next fifteen minutes, Steven eating and Jim slowly toying with the food on his plate. It was somewhat of a relief when Simon called and asked the detective to cover for one of the officers on the surveillance team that had come down with the flu. Apologizing to Steven, he left the restaurant quickly and spent the rest of his night in an unmarked van. Jim filled the long boring hours by replaying the short conversation over in his mind. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out how to clean up the mess that he had created. 

* * *

**SATURDAY NIGHT**

There was never any rest for the weary. Exhausted as he was from the stakeout, Jim had still managed to put in six hours questioning all nine of the perps they arrested in the wee hours of the morning. One of the gang members finally broke and agreed to turn State's evidence, and of course that required filling out the paperwork that went hand and hand with booking each suspect. The detective returned to the loft to grab a bite to eat and a shower before heading back out to put in another eight hours on surveillance. Simon wasn't pleased by Jim's insistence on working tonight, but the Sentinel knew it was the only way to avoid the dreams that had been haunting him for the past week. 

With a half an hour to go before he needed to pick up Ryf, Jim debated calling Blair. He really didn't want to be in a rush when he talked to the younger man, he wanted all the time necessary to try to apologize and explain his behavior. Then again, if it was anything like last night, his Guide probably wouldn't want to hear it anyway. 

Taking a deep breath, the Sentinel pulled the slip of paper that held Blair's number out of his pocket. Jim was astounded to discover that his hands were shaking slightly as he punched in the numbers. Finally, he heard the tones that signaled that the anthropologist's phone was ringing. 

And it kept ringing. 

'Shit, he's not home. Where in the hell is he at 7:00 at night?' Jim wondered as he hung up the phone and left the loft. He had no way of knowing that Blair was eating dinner with Steven, so his mind occupied itself for all eight hours of the stakeout by creating mental pictures of Blair; out on the town partying, picking up a beautiful woman, and even worse, taking her home and into his bed. 

It was a long frustrating night. Even without the dreams. 

* * *

**PRESENT NIGHT**

He was doing it again. It was becoming some kind of sick routine for him. Put in his hours at work, stop at the grocery store for some beer, pick up some take out, come home, and start playing that damned CD again. In less than a week, it had become a habit; and, if nothing else, Jim Ellison was a creature of habit. 

With beer in hand, and the song playing in the background, Jim took another deep breath to relax. Like most of the other nights this past week, the detective began wandering around the loft. It seemed so empty now, so impersonal; and it wasn't just because most of Blair's things were gone, it was the loss of Blair himself. Jim never really considered how much life and personality the younger man had breathed into their home, and now it was gone. 

Walking to the balcony doors, Jim thought back to the night he had wrapped the crying young man in an embrace, giving and receiving comfort against the knowledge that they were soon to be separated. Closing his eyes, the Sentinel's arms rose to mimic the events in his memory. It was hopeless. Silently he cursed his powerful senses for ruining the illusion; the cold air reminding him that the soft, warm flesh of his Guide was missing, as were the comforting heartbeat, and the mix of scents that could only belong to Blair Sandburg. 

With that particular thought, Jim felt the depression that he had been swimming in all week intensify. He couldn't go on like this. Between the zone outs and his dreams, he felt as though he was losing his mind. 'Just like I was doing when I met him for the first time.' Jim thought sadly. 'I need him, and if I can't have him with me, I still need to know that he'll be there for me. Either we have to put this behind us or eventually let it become more.' 

That thought startled Jim. Never before did he consciously consider that possibility. 'Maybe that's part of what the dreams are all about,' he supposed. When he first began analyzing them, he really didn't read much past Blair simply using sex to torture him, bring him up to the edge and leave him hanging. Jim knew what was going to happen each time, and each time he fell for it anyway in a 'kick the football, Charlie Brown' kind of way. 

There was a silent laugh before he continued his previous line of thought. Deep down, he instinctively knew that it was his own subconscious torturing him, punishing him for not only denying what he felt for his Guide, but also for driving the object of his affection away. He needed to apologize to Blair, if he ever hoped to continue their relationship on any level, let alone taking it further. He backed away from the thought, tucking it away until a later time. 

It was going to take everything he had just to save their friendship. And he needed that friendship, needed it just as badly as he needed food to eat or air to breathe. The Sentinel just wasn't complete without his Guide. More importantly, Jim Ellison just wasn't whole without Blair Sandburg. 

With renewed confidence, the detective picked up the phone and dialed the number that he had memorized after staring at the paper for hours on end. Cursing as his large finger pressed two numbers accidentally, he hung up the and redialed more carefully. Using one of Blair's relaxation techniques, the Sentinel futilely attempted to calm his racing heart. 

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. There was a slight pause before his Guide spoke, exhaustion evident in his voice. "Hello." 

Jim closed his eyes as the rich tone of Blair's voice washed over him. It was only two days since he had last heard it, but to the Sentinel, it felt like weeks. In fact the sound was so hypnotizing, Jim forgot he was supposed to return the greeting. 

"Hell-llooo? Is anybody there?" 

Snapping back into reality, Jim finally responded. "Hey Blair." The detective was surprised by the husky tenderness in his own voice. 

"Jim?" Blair's voice dripped with amazement. From the surprised tone that he heard, Jim knew that the younger man had definitely not been expecting this call. 

"Yeah, Blair. It's me." The Sentinel was willing to bet that his Guide had been somewhat thrown when he had used 'Blair' instead of 'Chief' or even 'Sandburg.' He made a conscious decision to use Blair's first name, hoping that it would put the younger man at ease at the start of what was going to be a difficult conversation. 

"Um...what's up?" Blair asked warily. 

The hesitation in Blair's voice started an ache in the detective's heart. At least his Guide wasn't as hostile as he had been two days ago. Not that he blamed the kid, not after the emotional roller coaster Jim put him through the past week. Now it was time to end that particular ride and fix the damage it left behind in it's wake. The Sentinel decided that the best course of action was to dispense with small talk and start with the heavy duty topics while his Guide was somewhat off-balance. 

"Blair, I...I wanted to...I need to," Jim struggled with the words. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Jim used the brief pause to mentally review the thousands of different scripts he had composed and discarded during the past week. Not one of them seemed adequate now that the moment of truth had finally arrived. In a move that was utterly _not_ typical of Jim Ellison, he decided to simply go with what he felt. 

"I have a lot of things I need to tell you, okay?" Jim took the total silence as agreement. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he said softly. "What I did...the way I reacted...well, you didn't deserve that." 

There was a pause before Blair spoke. "Why, Jim? Why did you shut me out? We could have talked about it." 

"I was just so..so..., it was too...Chief. I...," God, this was harder than he had thought it would be. "...I guess I couldn't handle it, and I took it out on you." 

"Oh." 

All the devastation the younger man was feeling was clearly evident in that one little word. It was powerful enough to knock down Jim's remaining emotional defenses. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this week, trying to come to grips with...with everything. It was just such a shock. I mean, I just never thought..." 

There was a wry chuckle. "I know what you mean." There was a long stretch of silence before Blair spoke again. "Are you...have you..." 

Knowing what his Guide was trying to ask, Jim finished the thought. "Am I okay with it?" 

"Yeah." 

Jim took a deep breath. "Yeah. It took me awhile to sort it out, but yeah, I'm...okay with it." There was another pause before the Sentinel dared to ask his own question. "What about you, Chief?" 

Even from 3,000 miles away, he could see the younger man's thoughtful expression. "I was fine with everything until..." 

"...I was such an asshole." Jim completed. "God, Chief. I'm so sorry. I never should have treated you like that, I...just needed some time to..." A lump formed in his throat as his eyes began to well up. 

"...it's okay, man. It's okay." Blair comforted as he sensed his Sentinel's distress. Both men were quiet for a long time. The only sounds in the loft were the hissing of an open phone line and the CD player adjusting itself to start the song over. 

The opening notes must have carried through the phone lines because Blair broke the silence to comment on it. "Jim, what's that playing in the background?" 

With a quick sniff, the Sentinel cleared his throat and spoke. "You can hear that?" 

"Yeah, just barely. It sounds familiar, but I can't hear it well enough to recognize it." 

"It's from a tape you left here on accident." Somewhat embarrassed, Jim explained how he had found the tape, as well as his obsession with the song. A blush crept up his face as he said his next words. "It reminds me of you." 

"Play it for me." 

"Huh?" 

"Play the song for me. It's been awhile since I really listened to that tape. I don't remember the lyrics." 

Feeling somewhat silly, the detective nevertheless moved to the stereo and started the song over. Jim turned up the volume slightly before sitting himself down on the floor and holding the mouthpiece of the phone in front of the speaker. 

//Love, sometimes it seems to me that I don't act the way I should   
To you I act like I'm no good, and you wait for me patiently  
This house is not a home without you, it takes two hearts to share   
Your eyes have always seen through me bring me to my knees  
And I will always turn to you, you're everything I need 

And through the good and bad times, you had always been there  
We'd hold each other close, you'd tell me it's alright  
The nights we'd fight about it, never think of giving up  
That's the price of love 

Love, sometimes it makes us cry, forgive me when I get it wrong  
Sometimes it hard to be that strong  
And oh, I would do anything  
For you I'd turn the stars around, I'd find a way somehow  
This time, you'll see I'll build a bridge to you again  
Love shines, sweep away the past, we're more than lovers, more than friends 

Your eyes have always seen through me, bring me to my knees  
And I will always turn to you, you're everything I need  
And through the good and bad times, you had always been there  
We'd hold each other close, you'd tell me it's alright  
Sometimes I can't give enough  
That's the price of love.// 

As the music trailed off, Jim brought the phone back to his ear. "Blair?" 

It was a moment before his Guide spoke again. "Is that really what you feel?" 

"Yeah. It's...like...everything I don't know how to say. Does that make sense?" 

"Jim..." 

The Sentinel slowly closed his eyes. "I miss you, Chief. This week...it was just so hard. I had so much stuff rattling around in my head, and the one person I could talk to about it...well...I just kept wanting to turn around and ask you what you thought about it, like you were still here, ya'know?" 

"I know exactly what you mean. Everytime something would happen to me, my first thought was 'Man, I gotta tell Jim about this...'" For the first time that night, Jim could hear some of the normal enthusiasm in the younger man's voice. As Blair began telling him stories about experiences while crossing the country, a feeling of normality washed over Jim. It was almost like his entire world had just been realigned. 

They talked for the next two hours, catching each other up on their weeks. There were a few awkward moments at first while they struggled to find that comfortable stride they had spent almost four years to establish; but all in all, it was like there had never been a break in their friendship. 

When Jim looked at the clock, he was amazed to find that it was so late. With the time difference, it was after 3:00 am for Blair. "Chief, you need to go to bed. It's your first day tomorrow, you don't want to start off by coming in a zombie." 

"Holy shit! I didn't even realize it was so late." Blair exclaimed. His next words, however, were much more subdued. "I really don't want to hang up yet." 

"I know you don't, Chief. Neither do I." Jim said softly. 

There was a moment's hesitation before his Guide spoke again. "I miss you, Jim." 

The Sentinel could hear the love that was hidden underneath the words. "I miss you, too, Blair." 'I love you, too,' he thought to himself. 

"Jim," Blair spoke cautiously. "Are you...are you sorry that it happened?" The open fear in his Guide's voice and the knowledge that he had put it there broke the Sentinel's heart. 

"No, Blair. I'm not sorry," he said, surprised by the conviction in his own voice. "This is going to sound really weird, so just work with me here, Chief. I think the thing that spooked me the most was just how...easily it seemed to happen, how _right_ it seemed to feel. Does that make sense?" 

He could almost see Blair nod as he agreed. "Yeah, it does. It's like this is...was supposed to happen." 

Jim didn't miss the slip in tenses. It was now or never. His Guide had unwittingly given him the chance to pursue the one topic of discussion that he was uncertain about bringing up in this conversation. "Blair, how do you feel about...I mean, do you still want..." 'God, I'm messing this up.' Jim thought to himself in frustration. 

"Jim," Blair began tenderly. "I'm not sure if we're ready to talk about this yet. Maybe...maybe we should just wait a little longer, y'know, finish processing everything. Don't take this the wrong way, man, but I think this hit you a lot harder than it hit me." 

He was right. While Naomi had raised her son with a more open mind, Jim's entire self-concept had just been altered. It wasn't a change that he was going to be able to deal with easily, no matter how much he loved Blair. 

Even though he could see the logic in waiting to continue this discussion, Jim still needed more of an answer from his Guide. "I know what you're saying, Chief, but I just need to know, well, whether I should write this off as a one time thing or if I should be thinking about making some...adjustments in my life." 

He could hear Blair's quiet chuckle at his obtuseness, but his answer was clearly serious. "Jim, that depends on you. Right now this is mostly academic, isn't it? I mean with 3,000 miles between us..." 

"Sandburg, I just need to know if you want this to continue." There was a hint of irritation in his voice as he spoke this time. 

"Maybe we should wait until..." 

"Sandburg." This time the name came out as a warning. 'Damn him!' Jim cursed to himself. Nobody, but nobody could verbally dodge a subject like Blair Sandburg, Ph.D. 

"This is all a little... 

"Sandburg!" Despite his earlier vow not to lose his temper during this particular conversation, Jim couldn't help interrupting his Guide with a growl. 

"Jim..." 

"Just. Answer. The question." 

"Yes." The single word was spoken so softly, only Jim's enhanced hearing allowed him to pick it up. A mix of elation and fear swept through the Sentinel, only to be replaced by confusion at his Guide's next words. "Shit. I didn't want to tell you that. Dammit." 

"Why? Why wouldn't you want to tell me that?" 

The sigh of frustration was captured by the phone lines. "It's too soon, Jim. I don't want to back you into a corner, make you feel trapped, y'know? I don't want there to be any pressure between us, like the next time we see each other, we immediately have to jump each other. I don't want to risk our friendship over it. It means way too much to me." 

"This would never..." Jim paused as he realized the error in what he was about to say. It _had_ hurt their friendship once already. 'But that's because it was such a shock,' he rationalized. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a wry laugh. "See what I mean? Jim, I just want you to know that I'm going to throw the ball back in your court. I won't push you into anything, and don't let my feelings push you into anything. This is going to be up to you. I won't do anything that will jeopardize our friendship. It's too important to me. This week...being without you this week hurt too much. Do you understand?" 

"Yeah. I hear you, Chief." Using Naomi's favorite expression broke some of the tension and both men chuckled. 

"Let's just give this a rest, okay. Who knows, what we're feeling today could just be giddiness from knowing that our friendship is still on-line. Either one of us could change our minds on it tomorrow." Blair said casually. 

Jim saw right through his Guide's cavalier attitude. Blair was still trying to give him a way out down the line, rather than put their whole relationship at risk again. While he appreciated the sentiment, Jim knew that the younger man had already made his decision. Now it was up to him. He and Blair wouldn't see each other until Thanksgiving, which gave him the time to make sure this was what he wanted. 

"Arrgghh." 

"What's wrong?" 

"Have you looked at the time?" Blair asked, disgusted. 

"Go to bed, Chief. And good luck tomorrow. Call me and let me know how it goes." 

"I will. G'night, Jim. Sweet dreams, man." 

As he hung up the phone, Jim smiled to himself. "Now they will be," he said to the empty loft as he headed up to bed. 

End 


End file.
